


things the breeze may carry in

by sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Girls Kissing, I've Done It Again and I Feel No Remorse, Massage, Seagulls Like Bread, Who Doesn't Like Bread?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 23:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: Inquisitor Adaar is often tense when she's travelling with her companions. Cassandra knows all the signs and she knows just what to do.





	things the breeze may carry in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweettasteofbitter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/gifts).

Yera's been marching under someone else's banner for long enough to know that any time more than two people set out from a place heading to another place, and there's a banner or a weapon with them, there's going to be trouble.

So leaving Skyhold to march north to the sea with forty-five soldiers, a Tevinter mage, a loudmouthed dwarf with a crossbow bigger than he is, and two heavily armed women, one of whom is Qunari, and all in Inquisition green... That's going to lead them straight through danger and into some kind of super-danger.

"You've been tense since we left Skyhold."

Yera nods as Cassandra steps into her space and somehow looks her in the eye even though she's a full foot and some shorter. Yera figured out that that's Cassandra's special power, even before they started spending every waking moment together.

"Keep expecting something to go horribly wrong."

Cassandra chuckles. "I understand. But those lights up ahead are where we're stopping for the night."

"Oh goodie! So, if a hundred bears drop from the trees, at least they'll find our bloody tatters."

Cassandra rolls her eyes. "Come along, Inquisitor."

The village is small, but it seems welcoming. There are six rooms at the inn and, much to Yera's embarrassment, the innkeeper demands that she take one, for all the good the Inquisition's done.

She hauls Cassandra up the stairs with her, careful between the narrow walls but bumping against the picture frames hung there anyway. The room isn't much bigger. Yera's unbroken horn doesn't scrape the ceiling, but only because she's got years of practice at maneuvering in spaces made for smaller people.

Now that they've arrived they can ostensibly relax. Yera stows her hiking pack and many of her weapons, though not all, because what kind of idiot puts down _all_ their weapons at once?

Next, Yera checks the door, the walls, windows, and floorboards for anything unusual or suspicious. It's standard procedure, drilled into her by years of training to expect the worst. When she finally stands and brushes the dust off her breeches, Cassandra is sitting on the edge of the bed with a look on her face… not a glare, exactly, but likely a glare's close relative.

"What's wrong?" Yera asks, trying to see what's caught Cassandra's attention that she herself has overlooked.

"Will you please relax? You're starting to make me nervous, too."

Yera heaves a sigh heavier than anything she's ever been made to carry, but drops to the bed and makes a big show of kicking off her boots.

"Thank you," Cassandra says, perfectly pleasant and not like she just been the recipient of the most dramatic, passive aggressive boot removal of all time. Cassandra pulls one knee up onto the bed and turns to Yera, reaching both hands out to touch her. She pauses, like she always does, until Yera nods.

"You don't have to ask every time."

"I know they're sensitive," Cassandra replies, by way of explanation, before she cups the base of Yera's good horn, the unbroken one.

The other one, her bad horn, gives her no end of trouble sometimes, but after a moment, Cassandra gives it equal attention. She lets out a little sigh of pleasure and lets herself droop forward, leaning into Cass's space. Yera carries as much tension at the base of her horns as she does in her shoulders.

"From furrowing your brow so much," Cassandra joked once.

"Everyone around here says such dumb shit. If I spend more than half an hour with Varric and Sera, I have a headache for a week."

"And yet, you encourage them, love,"

"Yeah, well... Sometimes it's funny."

Cassandra digs her thumbs into the little hollow at the back of each horn and Yera gasps. Cass pulls her hands back quickly.

"No, it was good there, just, that side…"

Cassandra nods along. "Bad horn. My apologies."

"It's okay. It was mostly nice, and you're right, I'm way too stressed out right now."

"A different route then," Cassandra says. Before Yera can ask what that's supposed to mean, Cassandra is starting to pull on her shirttails.

"I mean, I've heard it's a great stress reliever, but there's a ton of people in the building, and you know how loud I am…"

"Shush," Cassandra says, pushing the sleeves down over Yera's shoulders. "Lie down."

"Saucy!"

Cassandra grumbles something but she doesn't douse her with a bucket of water either, so Yera's not pushed her too far. When Cassandra digs her fingertips into the first knot at the top of Yera's spine, she reevaluates her life choices and whether or not she thinks Cassandra's mad at her.

"Quit yelping," Cassandra says. She moves one leg over Yera's behind, sitting on her. It's not exactly an impossible grappling technique to break, but Yera doesn't want to send Cassandra tumbling head first after the boots, either.

Not yet, anyway.

"Cass, seriously, that _hurts_, and I -- ohh. _Ohhhhh..._"

"It only hurts for a moment, love. Breathe. Breathe deep."

Yera lets her face sink into the pillow and lets Cassandra's strong fingers sink into her muscles.

It could be an hour or two later, or ten minutes later, but Yera's vaguely aware that Cassandra's not sitting on her anymore and that feels entirely like a plate of butter that's been left out in the sun.

"Mmm…" she tries. "Mm ahh?"

"Yes," Cassandra assures her. "I sent for food."

"Mrrr?"

"Yes, extra bread."

A tidy little maid brings the food some time later and Yera manages to pull her bones back together enough to put bread into her mouth. She doesn't even notice that she's still topless or that the maid's eyes are as wide as saucers.

"Are you feeling better now, love?" Cassandra asks.

Yera swallows her mouthful before speaking, because she's getting to know Cassandra very well. "Yes. Incredible. Thank you."

Cassandra pushes the window open and sinks back to the bed, pressing their knees together, and higher up, pressing their shoulders together. Without Cassandra sliding right into Yera's lap, they couldn't be closer at the moment. Not that Yera would have complained about that either, but this closeness, combined with the fresh bread, the bone-melting effects of the massage, and the sounds of distant waves are making a pretty perfect moment.

"Ugh, do you hear that?" Yera says a moment or two later.

"What now?"

"I think I heard a -- yes, there it is again. A seagull."

"Well, we are near to the sea now."

"I hate seagulls. They're loud, they scream all the time and go wherever they want, they steal people's food… Awful birds."

There's a long, long moment of quiet between them. Years can still make out the sounds of the gulls crying far off, and the waves and the breeze, and people talking downstairs.

"Seagulls. You say they're loud?"

"Yes."

"And they steal food from people?"

"Yes, all the time."

"And they have no concerns about trespassing?"

"Well have you ever seen one read a sign?" Yera counters.

Cassandra drops her head to Yera's bare shoulder and places a kiss before she starts to laugh.

"What? You're in the seagull defense league, are you? Do they even have seagulls in Nevarra?"

"Yes, love , we have seagulls. And you don't hate seagulls, you're just jealous of them." Cassandra straightens up and wipes tears from her eyes.

"What? Why would you --? _Cassandra!_"

Cassandra dissolves into laughter again, and, helplessly, so does Yera.

"I've never been so offended in my life," Yera says, much later when they've had a chance to relax. The lights are out, the quilt on the bed's been untucked so they can better wrap it around themselves, but Yera's left the window open. Along with the odd, mournful gull cry, the breeze carries faint traces of the sea's salty scent and the rhythmic sound of its waves.

"If I offer you some bread, will you forgive me, my love?"

"In the morning, you tricky woman. And thank you, for… just being you. For knowing what I need before I need it."

"Of course," Cassandra says. Her words are slowing, stopped up with sleep. "Yera?"

"Cass?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Yera kisses her hair and smiles in the dark, even as a gull calls outside.

**Author's Note:**

> I bet you think this song is about you.
> 
> Thanks to Dee for their glorious eyes.


End file.
